Nutcase 101

Life is life. And you know what, it’s okay.

There is no turmoil going on and no issues that have presented barriers to life. We’re loving each other, taking care of one another, honoring and cherishing on a daily basis.

Waking up in the morning enjoying each others presence.

Taking care of the work that we’ve been tasked with great finesse.

Then coming home to the chores that daily life makes known and relaxing, letting the uck that life adheres to us, so that we can recoup and regather our wits.

But nothing extraordinary except for contentment has been occurring. And, we’re perfectly happy with that.

Dear Today,

Yup, I woke up happy. SYRUPY OVER THE TOP BRIMMING WITH F&ING HAPPINESS!! Why might you ask? Well, let me tell you!
-We’re going to have brunch with a great friend whom my husband is trying to get her a job at his company. This isn’t a bite you in the ass situation because this chick can totally do the work.
-I’m going to get my first facial in ten years!
-My husband was awarded by the CEO of his new ‘old’ employer two tickets to tonight’s major league baseball game, right behind home plate in a luxury suite and a reserved parking pass. We get to be VIPs!

The only downer is my weight and I’m not even going to let me get me down. I’m going to stretch, walk and enjoy my body and how it functions today and make it stronger for tomorrow.

So, if any unhappy thoughts, bad ideas or foul moods want to ruin my sunshine, it’s not going to happen. I’m teflonning my good mood.

Sunshine and puppy dogs,

Jen

Happy 4th! Today is America’s birthday and people are running around with sparklers, watching the fireworks and BBQing the heck out of pieces of meat.

But over here in the land of Nut, we’re celebrating another kind of freedom. B got himself a new, same-ol’ gig. Confuzzled?

See B was a contractor for a client for the last seven years. Then in December/January some shit hit the fan and splattered allover the ceiling of life. B unfortunately was in between the shit thrower and the shit. Yeah, not good but thankfully his awesome skills allowed him to come out of the situation smelling like roses when he cleaned the shit up and used it to make things grow.

And now he’s no longer a contractor but an employee of his former client.

But that’s not the best part. No, my lovelies, the kicker is that he gets vacation. PAID VACATION. When you’re a self-employeed worker, you don’t look forward to vacation because it means not earning money. We’ve been in situations where we relied on B to bring home the bacon and then we were in times where he could take time off but we were trying to meet goals. Vacation was never a real priority for B and in the last five years, the most consecutive time off B’s taken is 3 days – when we got married.

Now, he gets three weeks off and sick days. He can go away and relax, not worried what to do with a short paycheck or figure out a way to make those hours up. We can walk on a beach and enjoy each other. There are locations where you need more than a week to explore and now those are on our agenda. Of course, there is the sick days, he can get sick and take days off to get well. In the past, he’d find ways to make up the hours as soon as he wasn’t contagious – which could lead to a relapse.

I’ll be honest, I cried when I thought about him just being able to not have that pressure anymore. Then I booked a cruise to a Hawaii. (Kidding! We’re going to Florida next month to celebrate my parents 40th Anniversary and we can stay longer than we had originally planned because of our new situation.)

There were pros and cons to the change but we’re incredibly happy with what this new gig will afford us in the near and distant future.

Actually, B is the crazy one. But I love him and support his decision.

He wants to toilet train the cats.

If you knew how much litter we go through a year, you’d be helping the cats understand that the toilet is their friends. Sassy, with her ‘issue’, pees like a sprinkler. It’s fucking NUTS the amount of urine that comes out of her 13lb body. Anyway, with my back, it’s hard for me to clean out the litter boxes (yes, we have to have TWO) and the number of times we have to clean out said boxes, it’s exhausting.

During a trip to Petco, Brian found the Litter Kwitter. (Warming: video of cats shitting on a toilet)

It’s a potty training system with felines that gets them use to doing onesies and twosies over different trays that start out fully enclosed to a tray that is mostly a giant hole with a moat of litter around it. If this works, our life will be easy. Just go in and flush the toilet. And I’m sure B will devise a way to get the cats to enjoy the magical sounds of whirling water, so that they’ll flush after themselves. One can dream that our crazy antics will work!

I haven’t left you guys. I’ve been hiding out at http://twochicksknitting.wordpress.com

But, I’ll be here to rant about life and it’s unfairness for having a rather large ass. And too small boobs for said ass.

Also, I’ve been writing a dear BP, fuck you for killing my childhood home and a lot of people I know livelihoods letter but I keep deleting it. Every time I start writing the letter I want choke someone and then I start crying. As I am about to right now.

Maybe in a day or two I can compose the letter to my satisfaction.

Your Nutcase101 experience (and if you’re getting an experience out of reading this blog, let me give you the number of a nice therapist I know) because I’ve been on vacation. Yes, we went to LA and I have a post about that somewhere but it’s not writing up like I want so I’m not comfortable posting it. Words aren’t capturing the relaxing/fun/wonderful time. So, we did that and then I’ve been going solo since B had to go back to work.

And Knitting. And running grown up errands like having my car serviced by five men.

Yes, at one point there were five men on my baby. I didn’t know if I needed to be ashamed or start filming the servicemen on car action and try to sell it to some perverted group on the internet. Obviously, I didn’t go with the money making route.

My car has recovered from her experience and I’ve also been poked and prodded. In the eyes. But the eyes are good. So are my teeth. And tomorrow I find out how my back is doing. Which I already know, shitty. I’ll be talking to the doctor to schedule another round of epidurals for a spinal block of glory. I loved the results from the last round, which lasted two years, and if this round is just as grand I’ll be a happy camper.

But back to the knitting, because really, that’s the intriguing (ie boring) part of my life. I’m working on a sweater for my mom – no pictures yet. And socks (in progress – toes only right now) that are in ode to my 80’s childhood, Rainbow Brite.

And here is the pile of yarn that I’ll be using to make said knee highs.

Now, for the serious subject. What would you all (five of you) think if I stopped Nutcase101 and made a new knitting blog? Nothing has been decided but maybe I’ll do something 50/50 – rant and knit or as often known in the knitting world as “Stitch and Bitch”.

Okay, so it won’t be depressing but DAMMIT it’s going to be fun. And we’re not really staying at a plcae called Hotel California but we will be reveling in the love that is Hollywood.

In about five hours and fifteen minutes we’ll be on a jet plane to California for a glorious five days where we’ll enjoy great friends, conversation and food. Honestly, it’s going to be a blast. We do plan on fitting some sites into our trip but really, it’s all about the people.

And if you’re in Los Angeles and you want to have lunch with the Slackmistress, Betheboy and the crew of LAGenX, come to Laurel Tavern at noon tomorrow (5/29).

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll see that I post a lot about yarn. And a lot of people don’t believe that yarn work is the coolest hobby in the world or don’t understand why I could get so excited by a hank of fiber.

This weekend I got to go to Stitches South, where my yarn dreams came true. There were a lot of little mom & pop yarn shops where they make one batch of a yarn in a specific colorway and that’s it. I’m now the proud owner of a lot of different sock yarns that will knit up into some wonderful gifts for people.

Of course, when I got home, I had to get approval of my purchases.

And, the ‘Reeling Machine’ is a yarn swift, a nice little tool that helps a hank of yarn convert into a nice yarn cake when used with a ball winder.

(PS. If anyone is looking for a wooden tabletop swift – non-umbrella type – mine is up for sale, email me for the price.)

I woke up in the room my mother grew up in, under a quilt made by grandmother’s hands to the smell of breakfast cooking. It was a month after college graduation and it was my first vacation since I was 18, having worked full time while I attending FSU full time.

The only place I wanted to go on my first adult adventure was a location that was very familiar but foreign to me. I had been to my grandmother’s small, early 1900 house many times as a child but it was never with the intent to get to know where I came from and who my grandmother really was. I wanted to know the woman that raised my mother. The woman who got her nursing license in her forties to support her family of six children because my grandfather left for greener pastures. The woman who was only four foot ten on good days but a giant in my eyes.

I spent a week listening to her stories and to her snore in front of the TV. She drove me around to meet relatives that I had only heard of in memories that my mother shared, seeing my great Uncle’s dairy farm, running in pastures that my mother called her playground as a child. Grandma told me about the way my mom shouldered the responsibilities of cooking while grandma was at work. That my mom would bribe her brothers into the cleaning by letting them lick the bowls of whatever dessert she had prepared. I learned about my great-grandparents, that I have strong Canadian roots and that I didn’t inherit the Mohawk genes that allow a lot of my kin to tan over night.

Grandma gave me a real treasure the summer of 2002 by sharing herself with me. She never knew that I went up to visit so I could selfishly keep her to myself for a few days. And now that she’s gone, the seven days in the house that my great-grandfather built is a life time of memories that I’ll share with my children one day.

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A note on the previous post, that event occurred five years ago but due to modern technology people have tried to come back in my life.

This weekend I was away in Phoenix with the lovely B, off to visit the Father-in-law and his second wife. We had a delightful time and I have no proof because I forgot the camera. Yup. I left it sitting on the couch all by itself.

The cats on the other hand did not get to stay home either. Since it was Valentine’s Day Weekend with the added bonus of President’s Day added to the end, our friends all made plans that involved them being out of town. So the infamous Lola Rocket and Sassy La Rue went to the vet, ahem, Spa.

So, now we’re home with no photos and two pissed cats.

And to put a cherry on top, B is sick again. He’s off to the doc-in-a-box to prove to them that they were wrong and that he does need an antibiotic. Poor thing was miserable on the plane.

That’s all folks. I know, excitement in a few short sentences. I hope I can give you just as much in my next blog post.